


Fleur Fatale

by chibiotaku4life



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9798443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiotaku4life/pseuds/chibiotaku4life
Summary: Love is always the answer. How far will Frisk go to save herself? A flowerfell fic





	1. Disappearance

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all. So this won't be perfect, as I don't currently have a beta, but there will be weekly updates, and a prequel is in the works.

Chapter One

Papyrus had given her dozens of flowers. Undyne, hundreds, until parts of her body were more meadow than skin. Even Mettaton had given her a few before she had convinced him that she could help him. Only Sans had never been able to lift a finger against her to grow the deadly flowers. He had begged her not to face the king. It was only after the flowers slipped down over her eyes, so that her vision faded to a mere half-lidded blur that she had accepted her fate.

“I will not fight him,” she had said.

“Come live with us, then, honey,” Sans had replied.

“But I promised - wait, what did you call me?”

“Nuttin’,” Sans said, sinking into his coat until only his dead eyes were visible.  
Frisk smiled, an innocent expression full of the grace and beauty that was new to the whole underground.

“Alright,” she acquiesced, her smile growing.

“Wait, really?” Sans and Flowey said at the same time.

“Shut up, Smiley Trashbag,” Flowey growl-shouted. Sans’ eye flared, and Flowey squeaked and started to shake.

“Sans…” Frisk warned.

“Alright, alright,” Sans muttered, his voice muffled through the fluff of his coat.  
Frisk extended her hand. “Let’s go home.”

 

 

Papyrus stood before Frisk, frowning. “You may have bested me in battle,” he declared. “But now you must prove yourself the better chef before you may live with us. You must be of some use, after all. He pointed a bone at Frisk, and her breath caught. Suddenly she was facing Papyrus in the blizzard, stumbling around as she tried to see the white bones through the thick white snow. Tears were wrung from her eyes by the cruel wind and the bite of not just cold, but jagged edges of bone.

She felt her soul break, a feeling like all the pain of the world condensed into a single, explosive pinpoint of force. And again. And again.

Finally she shouted in frustration, “Why can’t we be allies? We’d be stronger together!” A bone cut across her cheek, sending searing pain across her face.

“If I spare you, I’ll not live another day!” Papyrus shouted back, sending another line of bones out with a wave of his arm.

“How do you know that? Isn’t it the stronger thing to spare someone, not knowing what they’ll do to you or how others will react? You’re acting out of fear!”

Papyrus howled in rage. “Finish me or die, human!”

“That’s enough, boss,” Sans said calmly, stepping in front of her. Papyrus stumbled in shock and managed to dissipate the bones just before they reached his brother.

“How dare you defy me?” Papyrus screamed.

“The kid’s right,” Sans shrugged. “We can’t live our lives in fear. There is strength in unity, brother.”

“You would call me-” he started, but Frisk cut him off.

She ran forward and gave Papyrus a hug. He froze in shock, then tentatively hugged her back. He started to shake, tears coursing down his face, lit red from his burning eye, which flared bright with emotion. Frisk held Papyrus, shaking as well, but in her case, it was from physical pain.

She was back in the kitchen, on her knees in fetal position, hands pressed against her ears, shaking.

“Frisk,” Flowey cried desperately, sounding very childlike. Frisk tried to slow her rapid breathing, and felt Sans’ arms around her. She turned and buried her face and her tears in his coat.

“I - I am sorry, human,” Papyrus said. “I did not mean-”

Frisk, still shaking, managed to say, “It’s’ok.” Then she hiccuped.

Sans drew back and stared at her, as did Papyrus. She hiccuped again. Then they all burst out laughing.

Hearing Sans’ low belly-laugh and Papyrus’ high “Nyeh-heh-heh!”, Frisk could only laugh harder, which in turn made her hiccup more, which sent them all into fits again.

“Hey,” Sans gasped. “I can try to cure your hiccups, but I wouldn’t hold your breath!”

“Oh my god Sans!”

“You’re smiling, boss.”

“I am and I hate it!”

Frisk guffawed, gasping for breath. The hiccups, it seemed, had stopped, but the whole house was bright with laughter.

Sans’ expression changed. “In all seriousness, though, what was that? Are you okay?”

The smile slid off Frisk’s face like water off a window. Her shoulders slumped.

“I - I was remembering the times I fought Papyrus,” she said, looking down. “76 flowers, Sans.” He was the only one who knew about her condition. For all that she trusted her new friends, she was not sure if they would react so well to learning that she had such power over time.

“Times?” Papyrus asked, confused. “And what’s this about flowers?”

“Slip of the tongue,” Sans said, covering for her. “And it’s an inside joke.” He laughed, fairly convincingly, but too late.

“Human,” Papyrus said, kneeling before her. “Does this have to do with the flowers on your body? None of the other humans had them.” He paused, looking to one side, frowning. “If something is wrong, I want to help. After all, you’ve helped nearly every monster in the underground. You taught us what love really means.”

“Wow, boss. That’s sappy, even for you,” Sans quipped. Papyrus’ eye flared, and Sans held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, but he was smiling.

“I’m alright,” Frisk said. With Papyrus perhaps, it wasn’t so much that she couldn’t know how he’d react as that she could. He wouldn’t know how to fix this - the reset abilities were a secret between her, Flowey, and Sans, as far as she knew. That reminded her - where was Flowey?

“Flowey?” she said, whipping around. The little yellow blur was nowhere to be found. She scrambled to her feet.

“Whoa, there, Sans said, standing and putting a hand on her arm. “I’m sure the brat is okay.”

Frisk bit her lip. She did not miss the look that the brothers shared. She pulled away from Sans and ran from the house, shouting his name.

“Frisk,” Sans called in the background, but she easily outpaced both of them. Her experiences with Undyne had made her into quite the runner.

A golden petal lay in the snow in front of her, bright against the dull grey of the days-old slush.

“No,” she whispered, and pumped her legs harder, her quick, jagged breaths like cold blades in her throat.

Following a trail of scattered leaves and vines, she made her way into Snowdin forest. It was only as the trees became thick and dark around her, closing off the dimming light of the vast cavern, that she slowed. She was uncertain where to go next.

The branches of the trees seemed like black fingers, damning her, though for what crime, she did not know. She struggled for breath as the trunks seemed to close around her. A blur flashed in the corner of her eye, and her arms pinwheeled as she tried to steady herself. She fell backwards, seeing her soul start to glow, and desperately tried to push whatever-it-was with her arm.

There was a sound she knew well, and she braced herself for the pain.

“Frisk!” Sans called, skidding into the clearing, and Frisk was confused. She should be dead. A single yellow flower drifted down past her eye, and fell upon a whiter patch in the snow.

“Frisk?” Sans asked as she struggled for breath. No, she couldn’t have - she would never!

“Sans,” she cried, and he rushed to her side.

“You -” he gaped at the small pile of dust, and the flower that lay atop it.

“No,” Frisk murmured. “No, no, nonononono.”

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Sans said, pulling off his jacket and draping it around her slender frame as she shivered uncontrollably. “You didn’t mean to, it’s not your fault. Darling, please, if you cry you’ll freeze your eye shut.”

She didn’t show any sign that she had heard, so he picked her up in his arms. She was surprisingly light.

“Wait-” she gasped, as he turned around.

“Yes?” Sans said in an uncharacteristically gentle voice, one sweet and soothing like mellow jazz.

“Flowey,” she choked out.

“We’ll find Flowey,” Sans said,and Frisk was startled by the use of his name. It was enough to make her catch her breath and look up at him.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?” Sans grinned. “We can’t have our girl without her watchflower, now can we? Besides, for all that he annoys the hell outta me, he’s your friend.”

Frisk smiled weakly.

“There we go,” Sans said. “That’s my girl. C’mon, let’s get you somewhere warm before you catch your death.”

“I can walk,” Frisk protested.

“Too bad,” Sans said.

“Sans!” Frisk blushed.

“Alright, be my guest,” Sans said, setting her down. As soon as he stopped supporting her, though, she crumpled to the ground. He immediately knelt and picked her up again.

“I -”

“Don’t say it,” Frisk snapped, tears springing to her eyes unbidden. “Damn these rotten flowers!”

Sans was silent, and as the silence stretched, Frisk’s guilt grew. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I didn’t mean to -” She was surprised when Sans started laughing.

“You swore,” Sans said.

“Wha- No I didn’t.”

“Did too,” Sans grinned. “Hate to break it to you, but damn is a swear word, honey.”

Frisk allowed a small smile to creep onto her face. “Okay, so I’m not perfect,” she said. “It was just one time.”

Sans chuckled. “There’s a chance for you after all!”

“Oh, don’t you start,” Frisk laughed. Then her face drew in and she clutched Sans’ jacket tighter around her. Sans was troubled. If he had seen what he thought he had - but she would never, not even for her own survival. Even if these flowers weren’t like any other time, that even her Determination couldn’t bring her back, she would give that up before taking another’s life.

Frisk was sick in bed with a bad fever for the next couple of days. She shivered while sweating, nightmares spiraling around her until she was dizzy and fatigued with the weight of them.

_Undyne’s spears came at her from all directions, faster than she could move, some switching direction and appearing behind her without warning. They were icy cold as they struck, ripping through her slim body. She couldn’t move except to pivot on the spot, desperately deflecting them with her small shield._

_Undyne laughed maniacally. Finally the magical hold lessened and Frisk ran. Undyne was faster, though, and her boots thundered on the ground with all the wrath of a waterfall, promising to hold her down until she succumbed._

_Her soul broke._

_And again._

_And again._

_Agony beyond description. Worse even than the reason she had come to Mt. Ebott, worse than anything she had ever encountered._

_Burning hellfire. Breaking asunder into a million razor-sharp shards. Until she longed for the physical pain of battle because it was as a balm, soft and sweet as snow compared to the explosive pain of her soul breaking again._

_And again._

_And again and again and_

Frisk woke to find Sans sleeping, head in his arms on her bed. She smiled weakly. This wasn’t the first time she had gotten sick - when she had first come to Snowdin from the Ruins, she had been stronger, but by the time she had reached Waterfall, the flowers had started to take their toll. The weather didn’t help, either. She had earned quite a few flowers from long, slow deaths alone in hidden corners, half-drenched and hopeless.

And for all that Undyne was a fish monster in heavy armor, she was very strong, and she had only lasted a few hundred meters into Hotland. How many times had Frisk succumbed to dehydration, heat exhaustion, stumbled with dim vision over a ledge into the fiery depths? She took a deep, shuddering breath at the memory.

Sans yawned, looking up at her. He looked exhausted. He sat up and held out a hand towards her, then remembered himself and started to draw it back. Frisk reached out, weakly, and put her hand around his, drawing it to rest gently on her cheek. She leaned into his touch, the first kind contact she had felt since Toriel had hugged her goodbye.

“Sans,” Papyrus said, bursting into the room. “I have brought more cooling pads-” he stopped abruptly, blushing. Frisk hadn’t known skeletons could blush. She quickly dropped her hand as Sans whipped his away.

“Ahem,” Sans cleared his throat. Frisk looked over at him, and saw he was a brilliant shade of red. She covered her smile with one hand. He was adorable.

Papyrus coughed “I- here, human,” he said. He set down the cooling pads and brought over a bowl of -

“Soup?” Frisk asked. “Not spaghetti?”

“Well,” Papyrus said, shifting in place. “The innkeeper said it was good when you were sick, and it’s tomato, which is not that different from spaghetti sauce.”

“Thank you,” Frisk said sincerely, and his sharp expression softened.

She spent the next few days of recovery studying books of monster history from the Librarby. They were invariably dusty - the kind she was used to, not monster dust. Monsters rarely used history except to justify a fight.

Sans brought her the books. She knew he took more time than he’d probably admit finding the ones she’d enjoy the most, or ones on the topics she requested.

Sans or Papyrus would read to her - mostly Sans, really. She suspected this was less an unwillingness on Papyrus’ part - as uncomfortable as he was with anything he considered overly mushy, he seemed to enjoy reading to her - as a favor Sans’ had asked him. Often Papyrus would listen in, seeming to doze off in a chair by the window, but opening one eye when Sans would pause to take a drink.

Finally, a week after Flowey had gone missing, Frisk was fully recovered. They still hadn’t found him. Where could he be?


	2. Chapter 2: School

Chapter Two

Frisk walked through Snowdin in one of Sans’ jackets and Papyrus’ scarves. People eyed her silently as she passed, but not so warily as when she had first arrived.

She barely noticed, too busy worrying about Flowey.

“Frisk,” there was a long cry. Monster Kid ran from the edge of town, his face bruised and cut in several places. He was pursued by several snowdrakes and icecaps.

Monster Kid was a punk through and through, but he’d always been more sensitive than the other monsters here.

Frisk caught him as he barreled into her. “What’s up, ‘Kid?”

He sniffled angrily. “The other kids beat me up because I’m always tripping.”

Frisk frowned at the other kids as they skidded to a halt before her.

“Miss Frisk,” they chorused breathlessly.

“We didn’t mean nothing of it,” said a mean-looking chilldrake with a chipped tooth. “We was just playin’, right, boys?”

Frisk was keenly aware that they were creating a scene, and several of the kids’ parents had stopped to watch. No one would dare harm her under the protection of both of the skelebros, but not all of them approved of the messages of nonviolence she spread. They didn’t know better, after all. All they had ever known was ‘kill or be killed’. It wasn’t easy to give that up, not when you knew there really were monsters lurking in the dark.

“Steven,” Frisk said sternly. “What have I said about fighting?”

“Uh,” he stammered. “Uh, we ain’t s’posed to?”

As much as the parents distrusted Frisk, the children loved her. No matter how their parents warned them to stay away, they would always come back anyway. Of course, the Drake’s father wasn’t around much, but still.

Steven ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Frisk. Please don’t get me in trouble.”

“Now why would I do that?” Frisk said. “But it’s not me you should be apologizing to. All of you, you’ve done wrong, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Miss Frisk,” they chorused.

Steven was the first to step forward, eager to please his idol. “‘M sorry, ‘Kid.”

Monster Kid scuffed the snow with one foot, looking down. “S’ok,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” came from the various other children.

“Come on,” Frisk said to Monster Kid. “Let’s get you patched up. As for you,” she turned to the kids with a glint in her eye, and they froze. “I have an idea. Meet me at the Librarby in 30, okay?”

“Yes, Miss Frisk!” they said, and scattered.

“Bring your friends,” Frisk called after them, and chuckled. She walked with Monster Kid to the Store, which was nearest. Plus, the shopkeeper, Bonnie, was one of the most naturally nice monsters she had met. Violence in her mind was very much about defending herself and her family, and not about strength or power for its own sake. She was like an aunt to Frisk.

“Bonnie,” Frisk called, stepping in, the bell above the door jingling merrily.

“Back here, darlin’,” she called. “Go ahead an’ come on back.”

Frisk ducked under the counter and headed to the back of the store. Bonnie had a stack of heavy boxes in her arms, moving them around.

Frisk grabbed the top one, and though it was only somewhat heavy on its own, her muscles strained and burned and she almost toppled over.

“Where do you want this?” she asked.

“Over there, thanks, dearie,” she said, pointing with one ear. She set the boxes down next to where she had indicated. “You didn’t hafta do tha’ you know. I know you’s been sick an’ all, an’ you’re not the strongest lass.”

Setting the box down, Frisk wiped her brow, where sweat had started to bead. “It’s no problem, Bonnie. Happy to help.” Leaning against the counter for support, she asked, “Can I get a cinnamon roll?”

“Sure thing,” Bonnie said, going over to the glass display case. “You like it warm, right?”

“Actually, it’s for Monster Kid,” Frisk replied, and Bonnie seemed to notice him for the first time.

“Been fightin’ again, have ya?” she scowled. “Why, I oughta-”

“Bonnie,” Frisk said, laying a hand on her arm. “He spared them. He did everything right.”

“Is that true?” Bonnie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Monster Kid said emphatically. “I did exactly what Frisk said. I told them I didn’t want to fight. I tried to talk to them, and when they wouldn’t listen, I ran away.” He swallowed. “I don’t like running away, Miss Clyde. It makes me look weak, and I’m afraid they’ll do it again.”

Bonnie smiled and patted Monster Kid on the head. “You did right, ‘Kid. They won’t do it again. No one wants Frisk mad at them, right?” She looked up, sharing a knowing smile with Frisk.

“I’d say you’ve earned that cinnamon roll,” she said. “How do ya want it?”

“How much is it?” Frisk asked, digging in her small purse.

“No charge,” Bonnie said warmly. “This one’s on the house.”

“But-”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Bonnie said. “Hush your mouth. Nuh-” She shot Frisk a warning look, and Frisk’s sounds of protest died off. She put her small purse away.

“Thanks, Bonnie,” she sighed. She had yet to find a job, and she couldn’t keep living off the meager gold she’d managed to scrape together forever.

“No prob, hun.” Bonnie smiled as Monster Kid tore into the heated cinnamon roll, flecking glaze all over his face. As he finished, Bonnie gently wiped his face with a piece of cloth, and Frisk saw that it was fully healed.

She was both pleased and slightly troubled. She knew Monster Kid was not the most violent kid, but she hadn’t expected his LV to be so low. As much as she hated anybody inflicting pain on anybody, kids had to be tough to survive in this world. Most monsters had at the very least squashed a moldsmall or frightened a Whimsun to death by his age. As glad as she was that that wouldn’t sit on his shoulders for the rest of his life, it meant his HP would always be dangerously low compared to his companions.

She pushed the morbid thoughts away and made small talk with Bonnie for the better part of twenty minutes, until she realized the time and jumped.

“Oh, Bonnie,” she exclaimed. “I nearly forgot, I have to go. Is Lil Bun here?”

“Lil Bun,” Bonnie called up the stairs, and he came tumbling down.

“Miss Frisk,” he said excitedly, scrambling to his feet and awkwardly saluting her. Frisk covered a smile with her hand. “We’re going to the librarby, Bonnie. Be back before half-dark.”

“Sure thing, sugar,” Bonnie replied. “Have fun, y’all.”

Lil Bun held Frisk’s hand and Monster Kid skipped next to her. When they stepped out of the cold into the Librarby, nearly twenty kids were gathered. Frisk was surprised.

“Hello, kids,” she said.

“Hello, Miss Frisk,” they said in an awkward near-unison.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do,” Frisk said awkwardly, brushing her hair behind her ear and standing in front of the seated kids. “We’ll start with a history lesson.”

The kids groaned, and Frisk’s mouth curled up on one side. “You like stories, don’t you?”

“Yes,” the kids murmured.

“That’s all history is,” she said, pulling a book from the shelf and launching into an explanation of the Monster-Human war, using both her knowledge from school and the book to give a two-sided explanation. The kids were captivated.

“So why do you think the war started?” Frisk finally asked, and the kids erupted.

“One at a time,” Frisk called, laughing. “Raise your hand if you want to talk. Most of the hands flew up in the air.

They spent the better part of an hour on history, then Frisk could sense their attention waning. She snapped the book shut. “Time for math.” Rather than groaning this time, the kids leaned forward eagerly.

After math, she covered English - reading, writing, and grammar - helping the kids work in groups based on what they needed most. She was in her element, the kids eager to learn, never having been to school before.

Finally, the kids were much more restless, shifting and twitching various appendages.

“Okay,” Frisk said. “Bundle up now, we’re going to do some physical education. The class perked up, springing into action. In no time, Frisk led them to an empty snowfield.

“Instead of fighting,” Frisk began. “You can put your energy into games and competitions. Here’s the deal, though. If you don’t follow the rules, or are mean, you have to sit out for the rest of the time. Got it?”

“Yes, Miss Frisk!”

“Okay then!”

She divided the class into four groups. Marking out a finish and starting line, she had one group race, then the next. The top two in each race went on to the next.

Finally, she announced the winner and the runner up. Frisk clapped, and the class copied her.

“Next, we’re going to play a game,” she said. “Now, normally we’d play with balls of some sort, but since we don’t have that, we’ll make do with snow. This game is called ‘Snowball Fight’.”

“But Miss Frisk,” one kid piped up. “Didn’t you say fighting is bad?”

“I did, and normally, it is,” she replied, smiling at the young gyftrot. “But we’re not trying to hurt anyone. We just want to hit the other team with snowballs. Now-” she explained how to make a snowball so that it wouldn’t hurt, and how to make a snow fort for protection. “You have twenty minutes to build a snow fort. Laura, Steven, you won the races, so you’re team captains. Since Laura won first, she gets to pick a team member first, then you, and so on.”

“Who wins?” Lil Bun piped up.

“It’s not about winning,” Frisk said. “It’s about having fun.”

The kids paired up into teams, eagerly running to make their snow fort. Frisk watched them fondly. They got very into the game as well, at least until a stray snowball hit Frisk. The happy shouts fell silent as she was knocked down, and wiped the snow off her face. Subtly, she gathered snow in her hands, and threw it back at the offending chilldrake. The snowball fight devolved into chaos, and when Frisk finally called it off, breathless, everyone was in good spirits.

As they headed back to the librarby, Frisk stumbled a little, tired from the exertion.

“Are you okay, Miss Frisk?” a small Icecap piped up in a soft voice.

“Fine,” Frisk said. “Just tired.”

At the librarby, they spent one more hour learning about a combination of science and magic. Then Frisk sent the kids home, as it was starting to get dark.  
When she looked up, Sans was standing in the door, smiling.

“Oh, Sans,” Frisk said happily. “How are you?”

He looked taken aback, but answered, “Fine.” He tapped the doorframe absentmindedly with his finger. “You did good, kid.”

“Yeah?”Frisk said. “I think so, too.” She stood from the chair that had been brought for her and nearly fell.

“Hon?” Sans asked, rushing to her side. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Frisk replied. “I might have overworked myself a little with the exercise today.”

Frisk turned as a red glow flared. Sans’ eye was fiery.

“You can’t do that,” he growled. “You never take care of yourself. You need to, or else -”

“Or else what?” Frisk asked.

Sans snarled. “Or else you’re gonna get hurt, that’s what!”

“It’s not like I can’t heal, though,” she said, still confused.

“That’s not it,” he said, crossing his arms. “You get hurt and that affects us too, y’know?”

“You mean because you have to pay for stuff and take time to take care of me?”

“No,” Sans nearly shouted, making her jump. “Because - because,” he grabbed her and pressed his face to hers, pulling away after a few seconds. “We care about you,” he said, bright red.

Frisk’s face was very hot.

“Sans, did you just kiss me?”

“Going home,” he said abruptly.

“Sans, wait,” Frisk said, but he snapped his fingers and was gone.

“Dangit,” she sighed, putting her hand to her tingling lips. She zipped up her coat and snuggled into its warmth, heading for home.


	3. Echo Flower

Chapter Three

Frisk’s breath puffed out in front of her as she stepped into the house with a blast of cold air. 

“Shut the goddamn door,” Papyrus yelled from his place on the couch, not looking up from the TV. he took a puff of his cigarette.

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Sans growled back under his breath, but loud enough that Frisk could hear. She smiled, then stifled a cough with her hand.

Sans looked briefly over at Papyrus. “Put that thing out,” he said abruptly.

“Excuse me?” Papyrus said, his tone orange with warning, puffing smoke their way.

“No, really, I’m okay,” Frisk said, but was seized with a coughing fit. She tried to stop at first but it was uncontrollable, her lungs feeling like they were the thing on fire.

“Human,” Papyrus said distantly, but black was creeping around the edges of her vision as she struggled for air. Her legs gave out suddenly, and then a weight settled on her as her soul flickered blue, then red, then blue again. The gravity on her chest forced the air out of her lungs, and as her soul turned red, she was able to suck it back in with the sudden almost weightless feeling.

As her vision returned and she sucked in air, she saw Papyrus grinding the cigarette under his boot. 

“I’m good now,” she managed, and Papyrus stopped.

Sans dissipated an attack of sharpened bone that had been held to his brother’s throat, but not quick enough for Frisk to miss it. He looked at his Papyrus uncertainly.

“Brother…” he started, but Papyrus stalked out of the front door, slamming it behind him.

“Dammit,” he said. “You alright, kid?”

“Yeah,” Frisk said unsteadily, clambering to her feet and managing to mostly keep from swaying.

“Whoa there,” Sans said, and Frisk bit her lip.

“I said I’m  _ fine _ ,” she said shortly, and he fell silent.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed after a moment. “I just-”

“No,” Sans interrupted. “Don’t apologize. It’s good you have a backbone. God only knows you need one down here.” He grimaced, his gold tooth flashing. “I just worry, ya know? But you’re right, I don’t need to act like a mother hen.” He grinned, and Frisk grinned back.

“You’re not  _ that  _ bad,” Frisk teased, then grew serious. “I just - I - it gets frustrating, being so weak.” She rubbed her arm self-consciously.

“About that -,” Sans said, using one arm to stand up and brushing the dust off his knees.

“No,” Frisk warned, already knowing where he was going with that.

“Just a couple of moldsmalls or whimsuns, to get you in better shape,” he begged. “They’re barely even sentient.”

“They’re alive,” Frisk said flatly, glaring at him. “How would that make me better than anyone else down here?”

“So you’re better than us?” Sans said, his eyes going dangerously blank.

“No!” Frisk shouted in frustration. “But I have to set an example! Monsters are just now beginning to see the value in mercy. I can’t go back on that, or everything will go back to how it was before. Besides, it’s wrong.”

“No one would have to know,” Sans said in a low voice.

“You’re unbelievable,” she said in an equally low, disgusted tone, her anger getting the better of her. She turned on her heel, and then it was her turn to slam the door behind her as she left the house. She walked in a haze of rage, not paying attention to where her feet were taking her, until she realized the air was warmer and moist, and she was sweating in Sans’ jacket. She unzipped it, sitting down next to a slightly-glowing blue echo flower. 

“I want to get better,” she exploded, and the flower echoed her. “But not by doing  _ that _ . I can’t. He doesn’t understand. How could he? He’s probably killed dozens of monsters. I haven’t -”

She stopped and shuddered, realizing that was no longer true. She  _ had  _ killed, even if it was only an accident, and she never wanted to do that again. Tears sprang to her eyes. How could she explain?

“Life is valuable,” she shouted. “Every life had meaning and to forcibly take that away is just cruel!” She growled, stuffing her hands in the coat’s pockets.

She was surprised to find that there was something in there. Taking out the two objects, she recognized them as a half-empty box of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Why not?” she said softly, in a foul mood. “One couldn’t hurt. And even if it does…”

She took a cigarette out of the box, holding it in slender fingers. As she was about to light it, though, there was a puff of displaced air and Sans was standing in front of her. The cigarette went blue as he used his magic to yank it away from her and crush it.

“Every life is valuable, huh?” he growled, grabbing her by the neck of her sweater and yanking her up so that her face was inches from his. “Every life except yours, apparently!”

Frisk swallowed hard, and then burst into tears. Instantly Sans let go off her sweater, wrapping her in a tight bear-hug. She buried her face in his sweater. 

Sans was silent. Frisk wished Flowey were there. He would know what to say - Flowey! She had forgotten about him. How could she?”

“Flowey,” she choked out, and Sans stiffened, drawing back. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know, hon,” he said, his eyes going dark again. “I hate to say this but - maybe he’s not coming back.”

Frisk gasped, crying harder. “You mean, he’s … d-” a sob cut her off.

“No,” Sans said in a monotone. “The brat’s too resourceful for that.”

“He w-wouldn’t just abandon me,” Frisk said. “He-he’s not like that.”

“If you say so,” Sans replied.

“I m-mean it,” Frisk said loudly. “He c-cares abou-bout me.”

“Okay,” Sans said, drawing her back into his arms. “I believe you.”

“I - I forgot about hi-him,” she choked out. “How c-could I?”

“It happens,” Sans said, but something about the way he said it was strange. She could tell he meant it to be soothing, but his voice echoed strangely with memory.

“S-Sans?” she asked.

Sans sighed. “Did I ever tell you the story of Gaster?”

“No,” she said, drawing back herself and looking up.

“Did I ever tell you the story of -” the echo flower said, but cut off. Frisk’s soul shuddered, though she wasn’t sure why.

Sans eyed the flower, his eyes returning to normal after a second. He turned and leaned up against the rock wall behind them, looking up at the “stars” on the ceiling. He kept on arm around Frisk’s shoulders.

“Gaster was the royal scientist before Alphys,” Sans said, and again the flower omitted the strange name. Sans pursed his mouth and plucked the flower, idly tearing the petals off. Distorted static came from it as he did. Frisk looked away, disturbed, and Sans seemed to realize this. He dropped the flower.

“He was the one who built the Core,” Sans continued. “And he was committed to breaking the barrier, so that we could take from the humans what they had taken from us.”

Frisk shuddered, and Sans looked down at her.

“You have to realize,” he sighed, “this was before you came. And Gaster was old, old enough that he had seen the war. The war had taken nearly everything from him - his family, friends,” he paused, seeing the disbelief on Frisk’s face. “Yes, friends. We weren’t always like this, ya know?”

“Anyway,” he continued. “The humans had killed his daughter, Arial, and had permanently damaged his wife - Lucida - ‘s soul. He was trying to save her, but she was dying a long, slow, agonizing death. He would be the last skeleton - and neither he nor his wife wanted that.

“Now, Gaster had been experimenting with souls. Once he realized he couldn’t save Lucida, they agreed to try something. He took her soul, and part of his physical form - from his hands - and tried to create a monster.”

Sans blushed. “Now normally that’s … not how you do it,” he said. “But they couldn’t … well.” Frisk let out a small breath of laughter. “So he did that, but because he had had to take a piece from each hand to get what he calculated was enough material, something unanticipated happened.

“The soul split in two, and he thought he had failed. But he was wrong. The two halves of the soul entered the bone fragment, and Papyrus and I were born.”

Frisk made a noise of surprise.

“Yeah, that’s the sound I made when I first heard the story from one of his assistants. Anyway, because part of his being was connected to a broken soul, he was met with excruciating pain as a scar above his left eye and below his right were carved out. His soul, the one time I saw it, had two small holes to match the ones in his hand. You have to remember, monsters are mostly made of magic.

“When I was old enough, I assisted him in his lab. He wasn’t like Papyrus and I - he was always cold and distant, to us at least. Not so much his other assistants. I think we - we must’ve reminded him of his daughter.

“Now I don’t know exactly what happened. I’m no expert on souls. But being so close to the unstable magic of the core, and with holes in his soul - I think something entered those holes, something that drove him mad. He would have these - fits.” Sans’ eyes went blank. “He was powerful. Eventually whatever it was drove him into the core.” Sans’ voice was haunted. “He was scattered across spacetime, erased from existence, forgotten by everybody - even me, for a while.

“This had consequences for Papyrus and I. He got that jagged scar on his left eye. And I-” Sans hesitated. “Check me,” he finally said.

“What?” Frisk said, as her soul glowed red.

“Check me,” he said again, shifting uncomfortably.

She ACTed, checking him.

Sans - ATK 1, DEF 1. Only has 1 HP.

“You-” she gasped.

“Don’t say it,” Sans’ eye flared momentarily, and his hand clutched her in warning. She stopped.

“It was only when I started investigating the brat’s resets that I started realizing something was off - something was missing. That was how I remembered - or rather, rediscovered - Gaster,” he finished.

“Yeah, but Flowey hasn’t been erased from existence,” Frisk muttered. She hung her head.

“Doesn’t matter, kiddo,” Sans said. “If I could forget my own creator, you could certainly lose track of a missing friend for a couple of hours. You were busy today, and you’ve been upset.”

“Sans,” Frisk said quietly, “you’re really nice.”

“What can I say?” he replied. “You bring out the worst in me.”

“ _ Sans _ .”

He grinned. “Hey, it all  _ stems  _ from you. Don’t be- _ leaf  _ me? You can  _ pollen  _ ask Papyrus.”

Frisk raised an eyebrow. “That last one’s a stretch.”

“Think you can do better, honey?”

“Are you  _ ribbing  _ me? Your humor is  _ bone  _ dry. It’s  _ skulling  _ me.”

Sans groaned. “Oh come on.  _ Flower  _ your jokes so bad? If you were  _ petal _ ing them, I wouldn’t pay a  _ peony _ .”

Frisk groaned in return. “I give! This is the worst form of  _ pun _ ishment.” She smiled slyly.

Sans laughed heartily, a loud, happy sound that made his sides shake against Frisk’s. Her grin grew wider.

“Okay, that one was good,” Sans admitted. “You got me there.”

Frisk gave him a peck on the cheek, and he turned bright red. Staring straight ahead, he didn’t move.

“Uh, Sans?”

“Welp,” he said. “That was the  _ kiss  _ of death.  _ Tulips  _ too many, if you ask me.”

_ “Sans _ .”

He looked at her sidelong. Her heart rate quickened, and she let out a huff of air, looking into his eyes. Slowly, they both leaned in, eyes closing, and kissed. The bone of his face was strangely warm, and smoother than she would’ve thought. She let herself give into the moment.

Finally they both pulled away, breathless.

“Come on, kiddo,” Sans finally said. “We should go. Pap’ll have my head, literally.”

“Don’t call me kiddo,” Frisk said, shifting uncomfortably. “Or kid. Isn’t that kinda weird?’

“Sorry, old habit. Come on, flower.”

Frisk stood, giving him a look. “Call me that, and  _ Pap  _ will hear about his new nickname.”

“Oh god,” Sans went pale, which Frisk hadn’t known was possible. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Frisk laughed, and her voice rang back to her from other echo flowers, filling the clearing with cheer. Sans pushed himself up with one arm, and, blushing, Frisk took his hand. She looked up at him.

“We have to look for Flowey tomorrow, though.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Sans said. “Promise.”


	4. Realization

Chapter Four

“Sans!” Papyrus shouted as soon as they got close to home. A mob of monsters surrounded the door.

“Hey, Pap!” Frisk yelled back, commandeering Sans’ nickname for him. She laughed as Sans stiffened next to her and Papyrus scowled. She knew he wasn’t actually displeased from the pale pink flush coloring his cheeks.

“They’re here to see you, human,” he said, as the mob turned to them and, well, mobbed them. He turned and stalked inside the house.

“Um,” Frisk said, as the silent crowd gathered around her. She noticed Bonnie was conspicuously absent.

“We heard you were learnin’ our kids,” One bear said, and there was murmuring.

“What of it,” Sans challenged, stepping protectively in front of Frisk, while still holding her hand.

“Well,” the bear said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Can you teach us?” A bunny with her little brother on a leash blurted out, then covered her mouth with her hand.

“Of course,” Frisk said, letting out a sigh of relief. “How does the Librarby after the kids’ lessons sound?”

“Are you sure?” Sans spoke low, intended only for her. “You were pretty tired today.” 

Frisk nodded, full of determination. The monsters all acknowledged some form of consent. 

Over the next few days, Frisk taught for eight hours every day. It left her feeling happily tired, but she still would go with Sans for the first part of his searches for Flowey. She suspected that he was going to more dangerous places during the second half of his searches, once she got too tired. Frisk was often asleep on the sofa bed by the time he came home, and would wake to the sound of the door creaking open.

_ “I’ll help you, Undyne. I’ll take them on and prove that I’m worth your while,” Monster Kid said, his back to Frisk on the narrow bridge. _

_ “You think I need your  _ help,  _ punk?” Undyne growled, her eye flashing dangerously. She advanced towards him and he backed away nervously. _

_ “No!” he said, somewhat desperately, Frisk thought. “It’s just - the human is beneath you. I can take care of it for you so you don’t have to lower yourself to that level.” He took another step back, right where the wood bridge lowered an inch onto the stone pillar, and fell back, rolling over himself and only barely managing to grab the stone pillar with his teeth. There was fear in his eyes. _

_ Frisk rushed towards him, extending a hand, but he was too far down. He started to fall - _

_ Undyne caught him, dragging him up. _

_ “Don’t think this means anything, punk. Imma punish your ass for this later.” _

_ Frisk moved protectively in front of him. _

_ “Frisk?” Monster Kid said uncertainly, then ducked under her as Undyne glared at her in turn. He headbutted the captain. “Run!” _

_ Frisk sprang away, Undyne’s screams of rage as she chased after Kid echoing in the large cavern. _

Sans sat on the edge of the bed as Frisk awoke, hot and sweaty.

“Nightmare?” Sans said, his eyes dead. “You didn’t wake when I came in, and you’ve been tossing and turning.

“Yes,” Frisk whispered.

“I get ‘em too. Gaster,” he explained, seeing the look of confusion on Frisk’s face. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

He stood up, but Frisk wordlessly caught his hand. He looked down at her, his eyes blinking in, and sat back down, stroking her sweaty hair away from her face. She fell asleep with his hand in hers.

Word spread of Frisk’s lessons. Monsters started making the trek from Waterfall, Hotland, even New Home, complaining all the while about the cold and the distance, of course.

“The librarby’s getting pretty crowded,” Sans said, squeezing past the pair of guards, who were arguing, as usual, and a yandereplane, whose eyes went red and opened wide. Frisk shot her a warning look, and her eyes went back to normal as she flew over to a different corner of the room.

“Yeah,” Frisk said. “Got any ideas how to fix this?”

“We could use the judgement hall.”

Frisk shivered. “And risk Asgore stepping in?”

“They’d all defend you.”

“I won’t have their dust on my conscience.”

“Okay, I’ll think of something else,” Sans said, and slipped to the back of the room. Even Papyrus was there.

One day, as Frisk saved, like she did first thing every morning, Sans appeared in front of her, holding out his hand.

“Come on,” he said.

“Where are we going?” Frisk asked.

“I want you to meet someone,” he replied, and they teleported the instant her fingers touched his.

In front of them loomed a familiar purple door. Frisk drew in a sharp breath, drawing inward and pulling her fingers from Sans’. He didn’t notice, already walking forward. She put a hand up to her chest, clutching the soft fur of Sans’ jacket.

He knocked the door twice. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” a familiar voice answered. Sans looked back and beckoned Frisk forward. Numbly, she acquiesced.

“Interrupting human,” Sans said, with an expression that was the human equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

“Interrupti-”

“Hi, Toriel,” Frisk said softly. There was silence from the other side of the door, then they both scrambled back as it burst open. Frisk was buried in a large, very furry hug.

“My child,” Toriel said breathlessly.

“Uh, so you’re not mad?” Sans said awkwardly.

“I regretted that promise I asked of you ever since she left,” Toriel said, drawing back.

“Promise?” Frisk asked, searching the goat monster’s face for a denial of what she already suspected.

“I made Sans promise - I threatened him, you know - that if a human ever came through this door, he would kill them and take their soul. If I couldn’t have what I most wanted, then neither could the rest of monsterkind.”

“What did you want?” Frisk asked softly.

Toriel’s eyes darted to the left. “I want you to live, child. If you would only just  _ fight  _ -”

“You  _ told  _ her?” Frisk wheeled on Sans, incredulous. “How did you even know you could  _ trust  _ her, after she coerced that promise out of you. Wait - you…” Frisk trailed off, staring at Sans.

“No, it’s not what you think,” Sans said hurriedly, waving his hands out in front of him. “I -” he glanced at Toriel. “Sweetheart,” he pleaded.

“Don’t  _ sweetheart  _ me,” Frisk raised her voice. “How many did you kill? How many?” The last question came from a deep and primal part of her chest, louder than she should’ve been able to shout, ripping through her with all the fury of a tidal wave.

“Child,” Toriel barked, and Frisk wheeled around, past the point of caring.

“No,” Frisk said flatly. “I won’t kill. I won’t become like you, or him.”

She turned to walk away, and jumped back as a fireball melted the snow at her feet.

“What are you  _ doing _ ?”

“You’ll have to kill me to leave,” Toriel said, both of her hands flickering with flames and the demonic madness back in her eyes. Frisk could have laughed. Here she was, on the other side of the door -  _ images flickered in her mind like the flames “You’ll never survive Asgore. Let me give you a painless death, child.”  _ \- facing Toriel again, but this time it wasn’t  _ her  _ life on the line.  _ The darkness of the ruins  _ the white snow sparkled in the light of the  _ fire burned her skin, sending a sickly-sweet smell of charred flesh and flowers and _

“ENOUGH!” Frisk panted from the force of her shout, her vision spinning, but forced herself to continue. “I will not kill you, and you will not kill me. Now I can sit down in the snow until I pass out and possibly get sick, or you can let. Me. Go.” She gritted her teeth, and her soul blazed brighter than ever.

Toriel’s hands started to shake, and the fire’s flickering seemed to gain an uncertainty, popping in and out and stuttering weakly.

“Fine,” Toriel said, defeated. “But please, my child, at least consider -”

“Are we done here, Sans? Sans?” His eyes were dead and he didn’t respond.

“Fine. I’m walking back.”

Frisk stalked away. As she got to the heavy stick, she swallowed. She could hear Toriel crying behind her. How was it that she could be pacifist and still cause so much pain? She didn’t exactly tread lightly with her friends.

“Papyrus,” she called, closing the door behind her and stomping the snow off her boots on the mat. Papyrus might’ve liked cooking, but he he  _ hated  _ cleaning.

“What, human?” he called irritably from his room. She forgot he had the night shift tonight - he had probably been sleeping.

“Sorry - I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Frisk called back.

Papyrus let out a loud groan. “Well, I’m up now,” he complained. “Might as well start dinner. He stomped down the stairs.

“Papyrus,” Frisk asked hesitantly, swallowing hard. Papyrus seemed to sense that something was amiss, because he stopped and turned to her, waving his hand impatiently for her to continue. It was more attention than he usually showed her.

“How do you and Sans and everybody… kill?” she winced as she said it. “Like, how do you get over it?”

To her surprise, Papyrus walked over to the couch and sat down, gesturing for her to do the same.

“In truth, human, it is not easy for me,” Papyrus said. “As great and terrible as I am, I would always have doubts. I never sought out fights for the sake of fighting, like some did. I would tell myself that I was actually doing a service, because I never killed a monster that hadn’t killed or wasn’t directly threatening my brother and I.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Sometimes I would start the fight, but that was all in the name of … protecting him. Everything I did - always. You have to understand - he is weaker than most, weaker than he’d ever admit.”

“He only has 1 HP,” Frisk nodded. “He told me.”

Papyrus looked surprised, but she continued. “How is that possible, if he killed those humans? Was that before Gaster fell?”

“Who?” Papyrus asked, brushing at his temple as if he had an itch. “Nevermind. Frisk, Sans has never killed anyone.”

“What - but I thought - when I asked him he didn’t -”

“Did he take you to the door lady?”

“Yes,” Frisk said, not seeing what that had to do with anything, and annoyed that he had told even his brother before telling her.

“You think he’d admit something like that in front of a monster whose name he doesn’t even know?”

Frisk stared at him.

“What?” he snarled. “I may be overly aggressive and do nothing but fight most of the time, but I’m not clueless. To tell the truth,” he looked around as if he thought Sans might be listening, and leaned closer, “I might act like the younger brother most of the time, but I’m the one who’s taken care of him all these years since we left the Lab. He really didn’t have any hope until he met you, you know. He’s not lazy. He just - cares too much.”

“Aw bro, you do care,” Sans said, from the top of the stairwell.

“SANS!” Papyrus bellowed, shooting bones at him - but Frisk noticed how they missed by a wide margin, and Papyrus was a fairly deadly shot - “HOW MUCH OF THAT DID YOU HEAR? YOU LITTLE -”

Sans winked and disappeared, reappearing on the couch between the two of them. Frisk yelped and Papyrus jumped, tumbling in an ungraceful backwards somersault over the edge of the couch.

“I’m gonna KILL YOU,” Papyrus said, scrambling to his feet, and Frisk giggled. In the upheaval of the recent weeks, it was nice to regain even a moment of normality.

Frisk scratched her neck as her smile faded. This is what normality had become. She could understand what Papyrus had said about Sans - that he cared too much. That was why she had come to the mountain, after all. She cared too much in a world that cared too little. Fourteen years with her drunken, abusive grandma and an uncle who had been cowed into submission, after her good-for-nothing teen mother had run off and her dad hadn’t even stuck around through the pregnancy. Then four years in the system, made fun of at school for her hand-me-down clothes, working just so that she could get enough food because the foster homes never gave her much (If she was so skinny, she must eat very little, right?). Then tossed out on the streets like garbage the moment she turned eighteen.

And now she was dying of flowers overgrowing her, really dying, not just like when all these monsters had killed her and she came back … and the only solution they had found had to be the one that she could not take.

“Sweetheart?” Sans said, and Frisk realized the room had become quiet. Both of the skeletons were staring at her with concern.

She forced a smile back on her face. “Sorry,” she said. “Still just worried about Flowey.”

“Still?” Sans asked, and she raised an eyebrow. 

He grinned, raising his hands in defense and backing up. “Kidding!”

An idea dawned on Frisk.

“Why did you leave the Lab, Papyrus?” she asked curiously.

“Well, we were fired when Alphys was promoted. It’s weird, though. I don’t think we had a Royal Scientist before her…”

“Sans,” she said. “I think I know where he is.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Frisk held her hand out, palm up, for Sans to take.

“Where are we going, sweetheart?”

“We need to go to the Lab,” she said, and Sans’ eyes went blank. He hesitated, then put his hand in hers, and they teleported.

Sans steadied her as they made it. That had been a rockier jump than usual.

“Sorry,” Sans said, breathing hard. “That was - weird.”

Frisk stepped forward, and the door didn’t open automatically, like it had before. She supposed it was good that Dr. Alphys wasn’t trying to trap her into fighting Mettaton anymore, but this was still unusual.

“Doctor,” Frisk called, stepping up and knocking on the door.

“Go away,” a voice snarled from inside. 

“We just want to talk, Alphy,” Sans said, and Frisk shot him a sidelong glance. He shrugged.

There was silence, then the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss.

Frisk hesitated, then started in. The lights were all on, the hole on the wall made by Mettaton was still there, and the dog food bag was half-empty. That’s weird, Frisk thought. Last time it was half-full. She shook the thought from her head and walked forward to the small note in the middle of the room.

“You aren’t getting anything out of me,” it read. “My secrets will drag me to the grave before I help you. Funny things, secrets. They’re deadly. It’s not my fault what happens to you if you decide to come after me.”

Frisk turned to show Sans, only to see he was reading over her shoulder. She walked up, and the door that had been previously locked slid open.

“Probably a trap,” Sans said doubtfully.

“I know,” Frisk said. “But he has to be down there.”

“You sure?” Sans put a hand on her shoulder.

Frisk nodded. “Let’s go.”

They stepped into the elevator - for that’s what it was. Frisk pressed the button, and it hummed to life. It started to descend, then shuddered violently. Sans and Frisk glanced at each other, and it shook again, throwing them to the floor. Sans just managed to grab Frisk’s hand as alarm bells went off. “Warning, losing power-” came on over an unseen speaker, as the lights flashed red. They fell, finally landing with a bone-jarring thud.

As Frisk stepped out of the elevator, a power lock snapped shut over it, almost cutting off Sans’ hand.

“Sans,” she shouted. “Are you okay?”

“Dammit,” he said. “Yeah, I’m fine, you?”

“I’m okay, but I’m trapped,” Frisk said, looking around and rubbing her arms. The air was chill, and a cool green glow pervaded the misty darkness. “I’ll have to find some keys, I think.”

There was a grunt, and then Sans said, “Looks like there’s not other choice. I’ll try to force my way out. Be careful.”

Frisk nodded, and stepped away from the elevator. A long hallway stretched out in front of her, and she walked down it slowly, not sure what was lurking in the gloom. Her footsteps echoed loudly, and she shied away from them, knowing anything down here could hear her.

As she passed, a green signboard lit up the dark. Frisk yelped, approaching slowly. She couldn’t read the words, though, and dismissed it.

Finally, a golden glimmer sparkled amidst the darkness, and she put her hand over it, feeling the warmth of determination spread through her. She saved, then stepped forward.

A door which she supposed led to the power source by all the wires snaking across the ceiling towards it was locked, with four color-coded power cells marked. A hallway led away to the north on both sides of that room. To the left of the door was a vending machine, which you eyed nervously. If whatever was in there wasn’t sentient, it had to be at the very least poisonous.

She headed down the hallway to the left. It led west, past some operating tables that had a mysterious, goo-like substance on them. Frisk stepped carefully around them. At the end of the room, there were three sinks. Frisk headed towards them, hearing a faint sound emanating from what sounded like one of the faucets.

Cautiously, she reached out a trembling hand and turned one sink on, then another. As she turned the third on, there was no water, then the same gooey substance that had been on the operating tables started to ooze from the sink. Her soul glowed.

A strangely familiar smiley face greeted her, then a large, misshapen monster split into three smaller, grotesque forms.

She checked them, but instead of seeing their stats, or even blocked stats, as some monsters had, all it said was “No data available.” There was a strange tone, like an old dial-up tone, but with an eerie echo, from all three forms. She dodged as best as she could as ghostly faces appeared, sapping the energy from her soul.

She fell to one knee, her vision blurring more than usual in the dimness, the things only appearing in her peripheral vision. On a hunch, she took out her cell phone. Voices spoke from her phone. “Come join the fun,” a small crowd of voices said in a monotone unison. She clasped the phone close to her chest and backed away, then jumped as the faces reappeared.

She fell all the way to the floor this time. She would have to make the right choice, since she only had 2 hp left. She couldn’t survive another attack.

“No, I won’t join you,” Frisk said, both defiant and desperate. She struggled to her feet.

Overlapping voices spoke, so that she couldn’t quite make out what was said. Frisk pressed up against the wall behind her as a face appeared in front of her. Somehow, however, the ill intent seemed to have left the creature, and she managed to avoid the attacks.

She stepped forward, shaking.

“I - I will not fight you,” she said, barely managing to keep her voice from trembling.

Unlike the rest of the monsters in the Underground that she had met, these creatures seemed to harbor no higher hostile intent towards her. The forms dissipated into the misty air, leaving her alone.

She took a deep, steadying breath, noticing her quickened heartbeat as she did. If there were any more creatures down here …

Inside the sink, there was a small red key. Frisk took it and put it on her keychain that Mettaton had given her. The creatures reminded her in some small way of Mettaton. Maybe they didn’t want to fight...

 

She stepped into the room to the north. A red-colored powerbox with a small slot stood alone on the damp wall. Frisk took the key off and inserted it, and the power hummed on. She grimaced as her hand grazed the moist powerbox, unknowable sludge coming away on her fingers. She wiped it on her shirt, thought for a second, then pulled a Hot Dog out of her pocket. Thanks to Sans, she always had plenty of those, even if she didn’t like them. She ate it, and felt her energy return.

She stood up straighter and walked back to the east, saving again and taking the right corridor this time. She saw that the red node on the door gleamed faintly under a thick layer of grime.

A room full of beds greeted her at the end of the hallway. They were all made up, except for the first one.

“Seems comfortable,” a thought flashed across her head, then she shuddered and dismissed it. She knew better than to sleep here.

She walked around the edge of the room. Spying a lump under one of the sheets, she grasped the edge, steeling her nerve, and flung it back. A cloud of dust burst out, and she covered her nose and mouth with her sheet. Her eye watered, but she could just make out the yellow glimmer of a key.

She saved again in the northeast corner of the room, then headed north down a set of stairs. She was met with a long hallway running west to east, and not really knowing where to go, she headed left. She figured these labrythine tunnels were rather like a maze, and if she always went left first she’d find everything there was to find. To the right, another set of stairs led downward, and there was a sound like a heartbeat.

She debated with herself, then headed down. A shadow writhed behind a curtain, and she slowly crept forward, finally flinging aside the curtain. There was nothing there, except the faint green glimmer of another key.

Going back to the long hallway, she resumed heading west, until she came to a room with a large mechanical object that looked like the head of some frightening bug. Yet another save point glowed there, and she reached out for it.

Instead of the normal warmth, another smiling face appeared. Dread settled in her chest as a creature (could it even be called a monster?) with a gaping maw that took up its entire head loomed before her.

Shivering at the sight before her, Frisk started to hum the melody to Secrets. The smell of lemons filled the air, and her soul was surrounded by the maw, which bit and tore at it. Frisk tried her best to avoid the teeth, too focused to even cry out as the holes in her soul translated to bleeding gashes on her skin.

“Welcome to my special hell,” a choir of voices sang out as she was attacked.

“Sans!” Frisk cried futily. She knew she had acted too soon, as the teeth bit down once again, and the world went black. Her soul burst with blinding pain, like a burn so hot that it felt freezing cold washing over every part of her.

“Sbkwrm,” a familiar but still unknown voice said, as she struggled to hold on. In the beginning, it hadn’t been so hard. Had she any sense but hearing, she would have smiled at the name Flowey had given her, warning that her life could be hell if she revealed her true name.

“You can’t give up!” Frisk grasped at the words like she was drowning and they were a bridge to dry land. “Stay determined!”

Summoning her willpower, Frisk loaded. A new flower stabbed like a pin on her eyelid, weighing it down more. She ignored it, picking the key up from the room down the stairs, then proceeding to the fake save point.

This time, she forced her eyes away from the glistening, razor-sharp teeth. Noticing the muscles the monster had, she flexed as hard as she could.

“I’ve felt this before,” the choir sang, and Frisk sensed its intentions shift. This time she managed to avoid the attack altogether, and she stepped forward.

“I will not fight you.”

The creature slunk into the shadows and disappeared.

The next room was shrouded in a thick fog. Not knowing what awaited her, Frisk decided to go back and save first. She did, and returned to the strange machine room. To the north, stairs led up, and she climbed them. She found a small TV, along with some tapes and the yellow key box. She fit the key in, sparing a glance at the old tapes. She didn’t think she could risk keeping her back exposed for long enough to watch them.

She headed east first, hoping to at least ensure that nothing would attack her from behind in the clouded room. 

Eventually she entered a less misty hallway filled with fans. At the end lay a switch. Running her hand over the plaque above it, she could tell it read “On.”

She pulled the switch, and the fans switched on. Rather than fully blowing away, flecks of the mist coagulated, forming a smiling ball, which became a many-legged, rather dog-like figure with no face.

Frisk called it softly, and it ran towards her, skidding on the ground. She managed a smile as its face-hole slobbered? on her. She easily avoided the arrows that flew from its face, and as it nuzzled her leg, she pet it.

It laid against her, seeming to fall asleep. At least, she thought that was a snoring sound. She didn’t dare to breathe. As it bounded up, bouncing off the walls, Frisk was knocked down, and cried out as the dog used her as a launching pad. 

She laughed, painfully, and stood. She tossed her knife for the excited creature, who eagerly fetched it and deposited it proudly. This repeated, arrows flying from its mouth in its excitement. Frisk petted it again, fondly, and it started bubbling at the mouth.

Concerned, she withdrew her hand, but as it bumped her arm forcefully she hesitated and resumed petting.

It calmed, and a name sprung to mind. “Endogeny?” Frisk said softly, and its head tilted upward. She smiled. “I will not fight you.” Endogeny trotted off to the west, appearing to sniff, and lifted a paw in that direction before dispersing.

Frisk decided to head back to the misty room. It was clear, fans blowing on the ceiling. A long line of fridges stood like sentinels, a strange banging coming from one. She opened each one. All were full of strange samples of some sort. As she turned to head down another set of stairs, the last fridge turned white, smiling.

A figure that looks like a melting snowdrake appeared in front of her. It seemed to be shivering, and she immediately knew what to do.

“But snowbody came,” she said.

“I remember,” it said haltingly, and this time it didn’t seem to change moods, but the air warmed slightly. Its small attack rotated uselessly five feet away.

Frisk told two more puns about snow, and it calmed. She told it she wouldn’t fight, and it melted away completely, running into the gloom.

It left behind a blue key, which Frisk took. She headed down the stairs and inserted the green key in the waiting slot.

She headed back to the bed room and saved, feeling confident. Going at last to the eastern hallway, she found herself met with mirrors and a bunch of potted golden flowers just like Flowey, wilting in the darkness.

“Flowey,” she called softly, but nobody came.

At the last line of mirrors, movement caught her eye. She turned in time to see her reflection smile, and a white form expand with a jagged mouth and wispy, up-reaching arms.

A bird-like creature with strangely shaped wings and teeth that clicked in its eye that took up a whole side of its face hovered before her. Frisk prayed aloud for safety, and the creature flinched. To one side, a strangely humanoid figure materialized, surrounded by dusty butterflies, which swarmed its face. It raised its arms and fell to its knees. Frisk let out a cry and stumbled towards it, but it disappeared.

This time, thoroughly perplexed, she turned and mimicked the shape she saw. The creature flinched again, and the figure reappeared, now headless Waves of butterflies flew at her. She scrambled back and managed to avoid most of them.

“Stop it!” she yelled, frightened beyond reason. “That’s not normal!”

The creature blinked at her, and even as spinning severed heads approached her, she could tell it regretted its actions.

“I - I won’t fi-fight you,” she stuttered, then collapsed on the floor, holding her head in her hands.

After some time, she picked herself up, her muscles still contracting spastically. She entered the room to the north, inserting the blue key. She noticed a film-like substance covering her clothes, and put a hand on the wall. Gagging, she tried not to throw up.

Frisk managed to hold down that hot dog and staggered back past the bed room, saving on the way. She stumbled through the now-open doors of the power room, following the wires through an elevator, down a hallway, and up a set of stairs. She switches the terminal on, twitching at something buzzing at her awareness, like an itch in one of her senses.

She wheels around, pushing that aside, as a line of the strange creatures advance on her.

“Yes,” Alphys crows from the other side of the room, as more attack. “Take her. No need to keep the vessel alive while we wait for Asgore.


End file.
